“A person starts dying when they stop dreaming.”
Date: 17th of August.
Time: Midday.
Location: The Phoenix, Enfield; England.
Characters Involved: Hermione Granger.
Rating: PG-13 Angst etc.
Draco and Harry were at the Quidditch and Ron was at work. Hermione was pretty sure Malfoy’s lesbians weren’t here either. Dobby was around and he must have got the mail because when Hermione came down the stairs to get a glass of water, there were envelopes on the bench. She was the only one who received muggle letters and they were few.
Reaching for the two letters she saw one was pure junk and the other was the familiar cursive of her grandfather.
Looking back on the next series of events, she couldn’t have told you what happened when, only that it happened.
The letter was opened. The sky was nice today, light scatterings of clouds, sun, nice day. She unfolded the paper, her mouth was dry, she really needed that glass of water.
Hermione, Her own name, harsh and scribbled, familiar, soothing. You never wrote back. There was guilt there, hot and heavy in her dry throat, swallowing mouthfuls of dust and feeling it burn. It’s not anybodies fault. Then panic, fierce and raging through her body as her mind fought to catch up.
Then things started running together, she dropped the letter, or maybe she fell first. But the ground was there, hard and cold, the cruel words meeting the cruel stone. There were words, angry, swearing, from her own mouth. There was bruises developing on knees and air stinging dry eyes and it was everything happening in a heartbeat, but taking forever.
Hermione,
I don’t know how to contact you. You never wrote back. Something’s happened, it’s not anybodies fault.
Your grandmother had heart problems, you knew that. She wasn’t well. I’m sorry ‘Mione, her heart failed earlier this week. She didn’t make it.
Please, come home. I love you.
-Pa.
No. Her body was shaking, from the inside out. Vibrations deep in her chest that penetrated into the floors and shook the walls. Rage, fury.
Everything had been fine, everything had been right. Young, girl, above average, special school, gift, magic, Harry Potter, darkness, danger, hate, death.
This… All of this started with him. Her parents, they were gone, the people who defined her, loved her, made her, knew her. It was his fault, his fault they were gone. He’d as good as taken them himself. Harry said he loved her, he said he’d look after her, needed her.
Too many lies. They stung the throat and rotted the soul.
Scrunching the paper into a tight ball, she threw it into the fire grate on her way past. With her shoulders thrown back she took the stairs two at a time. Pulling out her suitcase, she carefully folded her clothes, shrunk her books, collected all her personal items and stowed them away.
Enough. Enough lies.
Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill she wrote quickly.
I’ve gone.
Home.
-H
There was no such place, not anymore. A quick sticking charm had it attached to the door. Hermione didn’t want anyone looking for her, talking to her, coming anywhere near her.
Not when it was their fault. Their lies and selfish needs. Taking hold of the frame next to the bed, the three of them smiled and waved.
Where were they now?
The glass shattered easily as she threw it at the wall, shards scattering across the floor and onto her desk. Useless memories that were no good to anyone. They’d ruined everything and now she knew, they didn’t mean anything and that was freeing.
Potter, Ron, Malfoy, Harry, Draco, Weasley, Remus, NOTHING.
Pulling her hair back from her face in a firm knot she shrunk the entirety of her bag and slid it into her pocket.
Her head was clear now, instead of being fogged with nonsense. She knew this was all his fault, she knew that if she cut the lying, hurtful bastard from her life, things would be just fine. Everything before Harry and Ron had been fine and she knew, she knew that everything could be that way again.
Why they’d chosen to do this, why had they wanted to break her and destroy everything she loved, Hermione just wouldn’t understand. But they could only keep doing it if she let them and she’d had enough. Hermione hated them; she hated what they’d done.
She could have had a life. There could have been a job and a family and sanity. But they chose not to let her. They pulled her into a world she didn’t belong in. They kept her there with lies of feelings that didn’t exist and she’d been so naïve.
Things hadn’t been great, but they hadn’t been bad, before, before she wanted before back. Because before things didn’t hurt, before people didn’t hurt.
Gripping her suitcase, she didn’t look back into her room. When people didn’t matter, things wouldn’t hurt.
Hermione reached the front door, throwing it open and letting it chip the plaster. As she slammed the door and headed for the front gates, there was no one to see her go.
***
It was cold.
She was back in England and the first thing she noticed was that is was cold here, colder than it had been at The Phoenix. But when she looked around, there was sun and no wind. Heat was warming the earth and it seemed Hermione was the only person who realized it was cold, regardless.
Hermione apparated right into the front hall, greeted by the gloom of the halls and knowledge of the walls. Throwing open the front door, she let the air dislodge the dust and grime that had settled on ever surface. Looking from left to right she reached up to knock the framed photos onto the ground. Moving from room to room in a similar fashion.
It was time for spring cleaning, cleaning up her life.
Time: Midday.
Location: The Phoenix, Enfield; England.
Characters Involved: Hermione Granger.
Rating: PG-13 Angst etc.
Draco and Harry were at the Quidditch and Ron was at work. Hermione was pretty sure Malfoy’s lesbians weren’t here either. Dobby was around and he must have got the mail because when Hermione came down the stairs to get a glass of water, there were envelopes on the bench. She was the only one who received muggle letters and they were few.
Reaching for the two letters she saw one was pure junk and the other was the familiar cursive of her grandfather.
Looking back on the next series of events, she couldn’t have told you what happened when, only that it happened.
The letter was opened. The sky was nice today, light scatterings of clouds, sun, nice day. She unfolded the paper, her mouth was dry, she really needed that glass of water.
Hermione, Her own name, harsh and scribbled, familiar, soothing. You never wrote back. There was guilt there, hot and heavy in her dry throat, swallowing mouthfuls of dust and feeling it burn. It’s not anybodies fault. Then panic, fierce and raging through her body as her mind fought to catch up.
Then things started running together, she dropped the letter, or maybe she fell first. But the ground was there, hard and cold, the cruel words meeting the cruel stone. There were words, angry, swearing, from her own mouth. There was bruises developing on knees and air stinging dry eyes and it was everything happening in a heartbeat, but taking forever.
Hermione,
I don’t know how to contact you. You never wrote back. Something’s happened, it’s not anybodies fault.
Your grandmother had heart problems, you knew that. She wasn’t well. I’m sorry ‘Mione, her heart failed earlier this week. She didn’t make it.
Please, come home. I love you.
-Pa.
No. Her body was shaking, from the inside out. Vibrations deep in her chest that penetrated into the floors and shook the walls. Rage, fury.
Everything had been fine, everything had been right. Young, girl, above average, special school, gift, magic, Harry Potter, darkness, danger, hate, death.
This… All of this started with him. Her parents, they were gone, the people who defined her, loved her, made her, knew her. It was his fault, his fault they were gone. He’d as good as taken them himself. Harry said he loved her, he said he’d look after her, needed her.
Too many lies. They stung the throat and rotted the soul.
Scrunching the paper into a tight ball, she threw it into the fire grate on her way past. With her shoulders thrown back she took the stairs two at a time. Pulling out her suitcase, she carefully folded her clothes, shrunk her books, collected all her personal items and stowed them away.
Enough. Enough lies.
Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill she wrote quickly.
I’ve gone.
Home.
-H
There was no such place, not anymore. A quick sticking charm had it attached to the door. Hermione didn’t want anyone looking for her, talking to her, coming anywhere near her.
Not when it was their fault. Their lies and selfish needs. Taking hold of the frame next to the bed, the three of them smiled and waved.
Where were they now?
The glass shattered easily as she threw it at the wall, shards scattering across the floor and onto her desk. Useless memories that were no good to anyone. They’d ruined everything and now she knew, they didn’t mean anything and that was freeing.
Potter, Ron, Malfoy, Harry, Draco, Weasley, Remus, NOTHING.
Pulling her hair back from her face in a firm knot she shrunk the entirety of her bag and slid it into her pocket.
Her head was clear now, instead of being fogged with nonsense. She knew this was all his fault, she knew that if she cut the lying, hurtful bastard from her life, things would be just fine. Everything before Harry and Ron had been fine and she knew, she knew that everything could be that way again.
Why they’d chosen to do this, why had they wanted to break her and destroy everything she loved, Hermione just wouldn’t understand. But they could only keep doing it if she let them and she’d had enough. Hermione hated them; she hated what they’d done.
She could have had a life. There could have been a job and a family and sanity. But they chose not to let her. They pulled her into a world she didn’t belong in. They kept her there with lies of feelings that didn’t exist and she’d been so naïve.
Things hadn’t been great, but they hadn’t been bad, before, before she wanted before back. Because before things didn’t hurt, before people didn’t hurt.
Gripping her suitcase, she didn’t look back into her room. When people didn’t matter, things wouldn’t hurt.
Hermione reached the front door, throwing it open and letting it chip the plaster. As she slammed the door and headed for the front gates, there was no one to see her go.
***
It was cold.
She was back in England and the first thing she noticed was that is was cold here, colder than it had been at The Phoenix. But when she looked around, there was sun and no wind. Heat was warming the earth and it seemed Hermione was the only person who realized it was cold, regardless.
Hermione apparated right into the front hall, greeted by the gloom of the halls and knowledge of the walls. Throwing open the front door, she let the air dislodge the dust and grime that had settled on ever surface. Looking from left to right she reached up to knock the framed photos onto the ground. Moving from room to room in a similar fashion.
It was time for spring cleaning, cleaning up her life.